


Old Habits Die Hard

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Professor Dean Winchester AU [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Explicit Language, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has a hard time adjusting to her and Dean’s new relationship status</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Habits Die Hard

It was weird, not hiding your relationship with Dean. The first time he kissed you in his brightly lit classroom, door wide open, students walking past, you were startled enough to pull away, looking over your shoulder to see who might have seen you.

Dean had chuckled, wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest. He’d brushed your hair off of your face and pressed a kiss to your lips. 

“No more secrets, right?” he’d whispered.

“Right,” you’d nodded. 

You were surprised at the ease in which Dean was able to let go of his old ways and even more surprised that it seemed easier for him than it did for you. You still found yourself checking to see if someone was in the room before you kissed him, you still felt the need to pull your hand out of his if you were out in public and you saw someone you knew, you still parked in the same spot near the park and came in through the back door of his house. Old habits died hard.

It had been nearly three weeks since you’d gotten out of the hospital; the winter break and the end of the semester were just days away. You were in Dean’s office, curled up on the couch, your laptop on your lap, typing up your final paper for Professor Singer’s class. Garth was across the room, sitting at the desk, working on one final project. You could hear Professor Winchester’s voice floating through the open door as he taught. It was a comforting sound.

Every now and then Garth would glance over at you, a weird little smile on his face. He’d seemed to take well to the fact that you and Dean were a couple, in fact, almost everyone did. You seemed to be the only person having a hard time adjusting.

You could hear the sound of Dean’s final class of the day, the one you used to be in, finishing up - chairs moving over the floor, papers shuffling, books closing, students asking questions, and finally, the doors closing as the last of the students left for the day. Dean came in a few minutes later, shooting a quick smile at Garth before crossing the room to lean over you and press a kiss to your lips.

“Hey, Professor,” you murmured. “How was your class?”

“Still miss seeing your gorgeous face in the front row,” he whispered, dropping to the couch beside you. He leaned back and closed his eyes. “But it helps knowing you’re sitting in here waiting for me.” He put his hand on your knee, rubbing your thigh gently.

Out of habit, you shifted, pulling away from him. He sighed heavily, slid his arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest. 

“You know what we need, Y/N?” he asked. “A real date. Not one where we have to drive to the next town over or hide out in my house, but a real date, where we get dressed up and go out for dinner. Maybe it’s what we need to help you get past whatever issue it is that you’re having.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Be at my house at seven.” He grabbed his backpack and cleared his throat. “Come on, Garth, let’s go take care of that research at the library before Jane has my head.”

Dean looked back at you as before he left his office. “Seven, Y/N,” he said.

“Yes, sir, Professor Winchester,” you yelled.

His laughter floated back through the door, making you smile.

* * *

You pulled into Dean’s driveway, parking beside the Impala, at promptly seven p.m. You’d had to drive around the block, because when you’d first arrived, you’d parked around the corner by the park. You’d almost gotten out of the car before you remembered that you didn’t have to park there anymore.   


You walked gingerly up the sidewalk to the front door, straightening your skirt as you walked to the front door, mindful of the icy walkway in your high heels. You rang the doorbell, then shoved your hands in the pockets of your coat. Fortunately, Dean opened the door right away, pulling you inside.

“Mm, you’re cold,” he laughed, kissing your cheek. 

“Yeah, well, it’s cold outside,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around Dean and resting your cheek on his chest. “You’re warm, though.”

“And you’re hot,” he added. “But not in the temperature kind of way.”

You laughed, snuggling closer. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m serious, Y/N, you look gorgeous.” He held you at arm’s length, looking you up and down. “Good enough to eat,” he smirked.

Heat flooded your cheeks. “Dean,” you murmured, pushing playfully at his shoulder.

“That will have to wait, though,” he laughed. “We have reservations.”

As you drove to the restaurant, you kept telling yourself that you could do this, that you could be out in public with Dean and act like a normal couple. You kept reminding yourself that your relationship didn’t have to be hidden anymore.

The restaurant was crowded, but Dean had reserved a booth in the back. You saw several people from school as he held your hand and led you to your table. You felt like everyone was staring at you, though in reality, you were sure that they didn’t even spare you a glance. 

Dean stood to the side as you slid into the booth, slipping in beside you. Once the hostess had handed you your menus and walked away, he put his arm around your waist and kissed your cheek. You went stiff and pulled away. Again.

Dean sighed and released you. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t understand, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

The look on his face was enough to break your heart. “I’m sorry, Dean,” you said. “I want it more than anything. I just...I guess I thought it would be easy, not pretending anymore. But I’ve gotten so used to hiding everything about us that I can’t just turn it off. I’m sorry.” You reached over and took his hand. “I’m trying,” you murmured.

“Actually, you’re not,” Dean smiled warily, shaking his head. “You think you’re trying, but you’re resisting.”

“No, I’m -” you started to disagree.

“Yes,” Dean cut you off. “You are. But why?”

You reached for the glass of water the hostess had left on the table, anything to soothe your dry throat and avoid answering the question you didn’t want to answer. You sipped it, looking anywhere but at the Professor.

Dean pushed himself away from you, just a little bit, but enough to make you feel like a heel for the way you were making him feel. The remainder of the meal passed in uncomfortable silence.

By the time you climbed into the Impala to go back to his house, you were feeling extremely low. You’d wanted this evening to be special, memorable, but instead it had become quite the opposite. All because you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of your inhibitions. You stared out the window as he drove, watching the streetlights flash by, neither of you speaking. You felt worse with every second that passed. You tried several times to start a conversation, but Dean’s face was enough to silence you. You stayed quiet until he pulled into his driveway and cut the engine. 

“So, you’re giving me the silent treatment?” you asked as he opened your door and helped you from the car. “Isn’t that a little childish?”

Dean shook his head . “I’m not giving you the silent treatment, Y/N,” he mumbled. “I’m just not sure what to say to you. You’ve wanted nothing more than our relationship to be out in the open, for us to be able to show the world how we feel about each other and now that we can finally do that, you’re pushing me away. Literally.” He unlocked the front door and pushed it open, gesturing for you to go in ahead of him.

“I know,” you whispered as you passed him. “I’m sorry.”

He took your hand, stopping you and lacing his fingers through yours, squeezing them lightly. “Tell me what’s going on,” he prompted. 

You shrugged, staring at a spot somewhere over his right shoulder. You resisted the urge to gnaw at your nail, a bad habit you’d recently acquired. “I think it’s because it’s, I don’t know, real? Before, it was like a dream, a fantasy, and it was just between the two of us. But now, well, now we have to let the outside world in and everything that belonged to just you and I, that’s all gone. Real life is going to come in and I’m terrified it’s going to tear us apart.”

“That’s not going to happen-” Dean said.

“You don’t know that,” you interrupted. “Look at everything that’s happened to us over the last few months. I find it hard to believe that something won’t come along and ruin everything.”

“It won’t,” he said quietly. “I’m not letting anything come between us ever again.” He cupped your cheek in his hand, urging you to move closer. He softly brushed a kiss over your lips, then pressed his forehead to yours. “I promise.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck and deepening the kiss. Dean slowly removed your jacket, sliding it down your arms and tossing it onto the nearest chair. He put his hands on your waist, walking you backward until your back was pressed against the wall. He took both of your hands in his, holding them above your head. His body was pressed flush against yours, His green eyes stared into your y/e/c ones as he dragged his nose along your jaw, inhaling deeply. You chased his lips with yours, moaning in protest as he evaded your kiss.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he whispered, his lips so close to yours that the tiny hairs on his chin were scratching you.

“You,” you gasped.

“Oh, I know that,” Dean chuckled. “But I want you to tell me what you want me to do to you.” He took both of your hands in one of his, keeping them above your head, and reached down to take hold of your skirt, pulling it up just a couple of his inches, his fingers dragging up the back of your thigh. “And don’t hold back.”

Your head fell back against the wall and your eyes closed. You drew in a deep, stuttering breath. There were so many things you wanted, so many things you wanted to ask him to do. 

Dean’s lips moved up your jaw, kissing and nibbling until his mouth was resting against your ear. “Tell me,” he ordered.

You spoke without opening your eyes, the words barely above a whisper. “I want you to fuck me, right here, right now, against this wall.”

A growl slipped past Dean’s lips, making them vibrate against your ear. He pulled your skirt up further, his fingers catching in the back of your panties, roughly pulling them down. You kicked them away, opening your legs for him, sighing as his fingers pressed gently against you and he eased them into you. 

Dean released your hands, freeing his to slide down your side and caress your breast through the soft material of your dress. You pushed your hands between your bodies and deftly unbuttoned his jeans, pulling him free. You stroked his length, your thumb brushing over the velvety soft tip, his cock twitching in your hand.  

His lips slid over your neck, the burn from his beard sending delicious tingles through your nerve endings. His arm slid around your waist, his fingers sinking deeper inside as he lifted you, holding you against the wall. He pumped them in and out of you, stretching you open. You were rocking in his arms, fucking yourself on his long, thick fingers, gasping wantonly with need.

“Are you ready, baby?” he growled, curling his fingers to press against your sweet spot, making you cry out shamelessly. 

“Yes,” you moaned. “Jesus, yes.”

Dean lined himself up with your entrance and slowly lowered you onto his cock, pulling you down onto him at the same time as he thrust up, burying himself deep inside you. He braced one hand above your head, the other around your waist, the two of you instinctively moving together, perfectly, like two parts of an intricate piece of machinery.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling his head back and kissing him, moaning into his mouth. You could feel the orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, every thrust of his hips pushing you closer to the inevitable.

“Harder,” you gasped. You wanted to feel him, needed to feel him, all of him, every inch. 

Dean did as you asked, pounding into you over and over, the back of your head hitting the wall as his thrusts grew more erratic, more forceful. Within seconds, the orgasm burst through you, your mind reeling with the sensations suddenly flooding you. You cried out, your walls constricting, clamping down on Dean, making him growl as he came, his cock pulsing inside you.

You were gasping for breath by the time the aftershocks from the orgasm started to fade. Dean continued kissing your neck, running his hands over your body, his touch soft and gentle. He smiled as he set you gingerly on your feet, taking your chin in his fingers and kissing you deeply. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmured.

* * *

Dean held the door for you, allowing you to enter The Percolator first. You returned the smile Meg flashed at you as you crossed the shop to the counter. The coffee shop was crowded, filled with the usual Saturday morning customers. Dean stopped beside you and took your hand.   


You glanced up at him, squeezed his fingers and rested your head on his shoulder. He smiled down at you and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Hi there,” he said. “You okay?”

“I couldn’t be better,” you replied. “In fact, everything is just about perfect.”


End file.
